Radiohead warned us about the future. In hindsight their late '90s masterpiece OK Computer was the last human howl before willing surrender to a new matrix of communication that's more signal processing than eye contact.

A second drummer, Clive Deamer, underscored the dominant rhythmic complex that drove an intense set of twitching and boiling techno-rock drawn mostly from the Oxford band's most recent albums, In Rainbows and King of Limbs.

The scorching video component - a vast, curved curtain of morphing pixels with another dozen flying screens focusing on minutiae of performance - completed the impression we'd been swallowed whole by some scarily intelligent rock app.

Four songs from OK Computer were as far back as they cared to remember. Paranoid Android was breathtaking as ever, though Thom Yorke slyly downscaled the keening note of panic from "what's this?" to "what was that?".

Elsewhere he sounded so enervated by Airbag and Karma Police, and danced with such spring-loaded elation to Myxomatosis and Identikit, that present tense was clearly the only viable option.

The sheer pace and density of those selections made the respite of his more hesitant keyboard songs - Video-tape, Pyramid Song, a sped-up and stretched-out finale of Everything In Its Right Place - especially precious.

The hymnal Give Up the Ghost, all looped voice and minimal assistance from guitarist Jonny Greenwood, was by far the most mesmerising moment. But this far down the slippery slope, the frantic industrial clatter and hum of Idioteque remains the key pitch of Radiohead's new millennium message.